


Forgotten Bliss

by JJ_Smith



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Domestic, Kid Fic, Mpreg, Multi, Past Mpreg, Polyamory, Polygamy, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-28
Updated: 2013-09-28
Packaged: 2017-12-26 23:20:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/971469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JJ_Smith/pseuds/JJ_Smith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After an encounter with a witch, Derek doesn't remember he's married to Stiles and Lydia, and he certainly doesn't remember the three kids they supposedly have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forgotten Bliss

**Author's Note:**

> Mentions of past mpreg, nothing graphic.  
> Written for A Bite Off Center, a Teen Wolf rarepair trope fest.  
> Prompt #224

The first thing he notices is how soft the bed beneath him is. He isn't used to a soft mattress anymore, hasn't slept on one since he left New York to go back to his home town. His room doesn't smell like burnt wood and decay; that would definitely be a good thing if it wasn't putting him on edge. He tries to remember what happened before he went to sleep, but it isn't anything out of the ordinary. He'd, once again, failed to help Scott adapt to being a werewolf, gotten lunch at the cheapest diner in town, ran through the forest for a couple of hours to keep in shape before collapsing on his mattress in his burnt down childhood home.

Derek isn't sure whether to keep pretending he's asleep or get up, assess the situation and get the hell out of whatever place he is in, even if the bed is heavenly. He listens carefully; there are some noises in the house, probably downstairs, but he should have time to get out safely if he makes a run for it. Carefully, he opens his eyes.

The room looks even nicer than the bed feels. Derek can't explain why, but he instantly feels at home in the bedroom. He quietly gets out of bed and begins exploring the room, all thoughts about getting out as soon as possible having left his mind. The first thing he inspects is the bookcase, which contains a weird combination of comics, science and magic books.

He freezes when he sees a picture frame. That's him in the picture, he's between Scott's friend, Stiles, and a redheaded girl he's seen around the high school. He frowns; he doesn't remember the picture being taken. The next picture he sees has the three of them in it again, but this one looks like a wedding picture. He and Stiles are standing on either side of the redhead, who's wearing the most beautiful wedding dress he's ever seen. He’d love the picture, if it weren’t for the fact that it’s yet another picture he doesn’t remember taking. Derek’s so caught up in staring at the picture that he doesn’t hear the sound of little feet running through the hallway, nor of the man following those feet at a slower pace.

 

It’s difficult keeping the kids in check for Stiles and Lydia. Both of them work, and Derek’s the stay-at-home dad. Unfortunately, Derek had gotten trapped in a witch’s curse earlier that day and he hasn’t regained consciousness yet. Lydia’s trying to keep their one-year-old, Laura, occupied by reading from a picture book while Stiles is trying to keep David and Leigh quiet so Derek can get some rest.

“Can we go see daddy now?” the five-year-old David asks. “You promised we’d get to see him later, papa!”

Leigh, his four-year-old brother, nods eagerly. “Uh-huh, you did!”

Stiles sighs. “I know I said that, but daddy needs some peace and quiet. A mean, evil witch hurt him and he needs time to get all better again.” He tries not to let his worry seep out into his voice. Deaton had already examined Derek, and so far there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with him. They won’t find out what effect the curse has had until he wakes up. He glances in Lydia’s direction and she flashes him a fake smile. Neither of them is convinced Derek will get out of this unscathed.

“But we’ll be super quiet!” David insists, pulling Stiles out of his depressing thoughts.

“Uh-huh!” Leigh agrees. “Promise!”

“Okay, we can go upstairs and take a quick look,” Stiles says, caving in. “Then we’ll go outside to play and leave daddy alone.”

The boys run towards the staircase instantly, happy to be allowed to see their dad again.

“Walk silently,” Lydia reminds them sternly.

The boys freeze and turn to face Lydia, a look of shame on both of their faces. “Sorry, mom,” they both mumble before walking quietly up the stairs. Stiles mouths a quiet ‘thank you’ in her direction and follows them. The boys manage to keep their slower pace until they reach the top of the stairs, at which point they burst into a run. Stiles considers telling them to be calm again, but he knows it wouldn’t have any effect. He may be a cop, but at home he lacks the authority Lydia and Derek have over the kids.

When the boys reach the bedroom door, they wait impatiently for Stiles. “Come on, papa,” David whispers. “Wanna see daddy.”

Stiles chuckles and opens the door for them, freezing shortly after when he sees Derek’s awake. The boys run inside when they see Derek, shouting for their dad.

“Daddy!” Leigh says, hugging Derek’s leg tightly. David’s bouncing up and down in front of him, eager to get his attention.

Stiles smiles brightly, but before he can take even one step towards Derek, he notices the other’s posture. “Der, are you okay?” he asks.

Derek doesn’t know what to do; there are two children near him, who apparently think he’s their father and Stiles calls him ‘Der’. Slowly he shakes his head.

Stiles moves quickly. “David, Leigh, why don’t you go downstairs and tell mommy to come up here? You two can go babysit Laura.” He tries to put as much authority into his voice as he can, and to his great surprise the boys listen to him for once. Though, they do make a point to look as miserable as possible when they leave the room. He waits for the boys to be out of earshot before approaching Derek. “What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice filled with worry. “Are you in pain?”

Derek shakes his head again. “Why are you so friendly with me? I’m pretty sure you hate me.”

Stiles rolls his eyes and laughs. “Very funny, Derek. Now, can we please get a little more serious? We need to figure out what that witch did to you.”

“What witch?” Derek asks, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

“You don’t remember? You were cursed a couple hours ago and you’ve been out cold ever since.” Stiles fears that the curse isn’t all Derek has forgotten; the Derek he knew would never be so cold towards their kids. “Just so we’re on the same page. What is the last thing you do remember?”

Derek shrugs. “You know, just your average day. Scott not wanting my help, you thinking you know everything about werewolves because of a google search.” The look of total shock on  Stiles’ face is enough to tell him that some time has passed since that day. “Um...so... a witch took my memory?” he asks, a little uncertain.

Stiles nods, trying to process what’s happening.

Derek points towards the pictures he was just looking at. “That’s why I don’t remember those pictures being taken, right?”

Stiles nods again. “I hope Lydia will know what to do,” he mutters at the same moment that she enters the room.

“I always know what to do,” she says, flashing Derek a bright smile. “I see you’re standing, that’s good.”

“Very good, if he had any idea who you are, or the children!” Stiles snaps.

She sends Stiles a confused look, before turning to face Derek. “Please tell me this is one of his not-funny jokes,” she asks.

“I’m sorry,” Derek says. He doesn’t really know how to respond to this. He feels guilty, but he has no idea why. He doesn’t really know these people, he doesn’t even know why he’s in their house. The kids are also a puzzle. They called him daddy, so he assumes they’re his. Stiles called the redhead, Lydia, their mommy, so he supposes the two of them are married. That leaves Stiles; why is he in those pictures as well? The house smells like him a lot as well, so Derek assumes he lives with them. Why?

Lydia presses her hand against her forehead and lets out a sigh. “Okay, we can handle this. How much of your memory have you lost?”

“He thinks we’re still in high school,” Stiles answers quickly, before Derek can even open his mouth.

“Well, it could have been worse,” Lydia says. It’s hard for her to remain calm, but she can see Stiles is slowly losing it and Derek can’t be doing any better, so she needs to stay calm and rational.

“Oh, really? How could it be worse?” Stiles asks, annoyed.

“At least he remembers the fire,” Lydia counters.

Stiles is about to agree with her, when he sees Derek stiffen. “Um... he may remember, but he’s not as at peace with it as the Derek we know,” he points out.

Lydia curses under her breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” She reached out to touch Derek’s forearm, a gesture that would usually calm him, but now he backs away. Lydia tries not to show how much it  hurts that he’s so hostile again.

Lydia’s hurt look doesn’t go unnoticed by Stiles, though, and he quickly reaches out to hold her hand. “We need to call Deaton to see if he knows what we need to do, and we need someone to babysit the kids while we figure this out,” Stiles says.

“Scott and Isaac are out of town,” Lydia points out. “Maybe Cora’s free?”

Derek’s face spins around so fast he’d worry about whiplash if he wasn’t a werewolf. “Cora? We know a Cora?” he asks. His mind immediately goes to his younger sister.

“He doesn’t know about Cora yet,” Stiles whispers.

Lydia resists the urge to poke him in the ribs. “I know, Stiles. Go call Deaton and Cora; I’ll deal with this, before you go do something insensitive.”

Stiles has half a mind to argue with her, but the look on Lydia's face is enough to make him retreat out of the room.

Lydia flashes a smile she hopes doesn't show how much all of this hurts her. She sits down on their bed and gestures for Derek to come join her. He's a little hesitant, but sits down next to her, as much space between them as the bed allows. He looks lost, like the world doesn't make sense to him right now, and Lydia supposes that that's exactly how he feels with so much of his life missing.

"Okay, let's have a quick catch-up of your life, shall we?" Lydia suggests. She barely waits for Derek's nod to continue. "You, me and Stiles are married with three kids; David, Leigh, and Laura. Stiles suggested naming her after your sister. We've rebuilt your old family home, which is where we currently are.

"The Cora I mentioned earlier is your sister. She's alive! She came back to Beacon Hills a couple years ago. She left after the fire; Kate had told her you were all dead so she fled town. When she heard about the Hale pack being back in town, she came back." Even with everything that's going on, Lydia can't help but enjoy the look of pure happiness on Derek's face. "I'm sure she'll come by to take the kids, so you can grunt at each other, in true Hale fashion." That comment actually gets a soft laugh out of Derek.

"We'll fix this, right?" Derek asks. What little he's now heard of his life sounds so much better than the life he remembers. He's even in a polyamorous relationship, like his parents had once been, before their third spouse had passed away. He hardly remembers his second father, but he does remember how happy his parents had been.

Lydia can't be sure that they'll fix it, and her rational side tells her that she shouldn't get Derek's hopes up. "We'll find a cure for this. Deaton will know, and if he doesn't, Stiles will do research until he finds a fix. He's good at that." Her smile's a lot more confident than she is.

 

Deaton doesn’t have a solution, it turns out. A week passes, and Lydia, Stiles, and some of their friends try to stimulate Derek’s memories. Nothing works. Stiles and Deaton are working hard on finding Derek a cure, but he isn’t very hopeful.

The kids stay at Cora’s for that week, but they miss home a lot and Derek convinces Stiles and Lydia to bring the kids home. Derek spends all of Saturday upstairs, far away from the kids he can’t remember having. It saddens him that he doesn’t know them. Stiles had told him that he’s a stay-at-home dad. In fact, he actually carried their kids. They all agreed that it was important to carry on the Hale line, but didn’t have any idea how Derek’s werewolf gene would mix with Lydia’s banshee ones. That’s where Stiles’ research skills had kicked in, and he’d found a legend that said certain male wolves could carry their children. At first they’d all laughed it off, and called it a great imaginary solution to their problem, but as Stiles kept researching it, he found more and more proof that it wasn’t just a legend. Within the year Derek was pregnant with their first son. Stiles had quietly confessed they were considering having another baby, before Derek had lost his memories. Derek couldn’t deny how much that excited him. He’d grown up in a big family, with plenty of siblings and cousins his age to play with. He wanted that for his kids as well. He was lucky to have found two people who wanted to give him that.

The picture book he’s looking at warms his heart. The kids look so cute. There’s one particular image of a small David who’s holding his newly born brother with Derek’s help that he can’t get enough of. He keeps staring at it, hoping it’ll spark some memory, no matter how small. He doesn’t look up until he hears quiet footsteps approach his room. Derek looks up and sees David opening the door, looking shyly at the father who can’t remember him.

“I thought mommy and papa were playing with you,” Derek says, a little nervous to be in the same room as the boy.

David nods. “They fell asleep,” he says softly. “So I played with Leigh, but he’s also sleepy and… I’m lonely.”

Derek doesn’t have the heart to turn him away; just one look at the boy’s pout makes his heart melt. He pats the bed beside him. “Do you want to look at some pictures with me?” he asks.

David doesn’t need to be asked twice and he hurries over to sit as close to Derek as he can without sitting on his lap. “That’s me!” he exclaims happily, pointing at the picture. “And Leigh! He’s so tiny,” he giggles. The mood turns sour soon, though, as David looks up at Derek. “Do you really not remember me, daddy?”

Derek can see the boy is close to crying, and he panics a little internally. He doesn’t remember this boy, but he knows David is his son and it hurts to see the boy hurt. He can’t lie, though. “It’s true, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you. You are my son, and even if I’ll never get those memories back, we can make new ones, right?”

David brightens up and nods. “Yes! And I can tell you about old ones.” David points to a picture of Leigh’s first birthday party. “Papa ate too much cake, because you didn’t want any and mommy only wanted a little, and he got sick. Mommy always tells that story when we’re having a birthday.” Leigh turns a couple pages until he gets to a picture of Derek holding a newborn Laura with David and Leigh smiling widely on either side of him. “That’s when we got Laura. She’s still tiny but not as tiny as then. She also doesn’t cry as much any more. I like her.”

Derek smiles proudly as David keeps going back and forth in the picture book to tell him about things he remembers, and stories he’s heard from one of his parents. At one point Derek picks the boy up and puts him in his lap, which gets a bright smile out of him. David manages to talk for half an hour before he starts shifting in Derek’s lap.

“Are you tired of sitting still?” Derek asks the boy, remembering his youth all too well. Werewolf kids usually had more energy than human ones, and he’d always spent a lot of time running around. As Derek had expected, David nodded. “Want to go play outside?”

He doesn’t need to ask twice. David clambered off of Derek’s lap and eagerly reached for his hand to drag him off of the bed. “Can we play frisbee?!” he asked, tugging hard on Derek’s arm.

Derek chuckles and follows the eager boy. “Do you know where the frisbee is?” He asks.

“You forgot that too?” David asks, looking almost more upset that Derek has forgotten this than he had about Derek forgetting him.

Derek nods, a little ashamed. “I’m sorry, but luckily I have a very smart son who can remember all of this for me, right?”

“Yes,” David says, brightening up again. He leads Derek down the stairs, and they sneak past the sleeping members of their family. Derek can’t help but feel warmth spread through him at the sight before him. Stiles is laying on the couch, holding Laura protectively to his chest. Lydia’s curled up in a chair, with Leigh snuggled close to her. As Derek watches his family, he’s even more determined to get his memories back.

Derek ends up playing with David for fifteen minutes before the others join them. Leigh is just as eager as David, though he isn’t as fast. It warms Derek’s heart to see David holding back his werewolf powers to give his little brother a fair chance. Lydia’s sitting on the porch with Laura, who watches them with big eyes. Stiles is just as energetic as the kids. At one point Stiles and Leigh team up against Derek and David. Right before they’re about to start a game, David gestures for Derek to come to his level.

“Let them win,” he whispers. “Papa hates losing and he’ll be very grumpy.”

Derek chuckles and nods. “Okay, let’s go lose this game,” he whispers back. It’s nice to play with his family, and for a moment Derek forgets all about his condition. They’re all laughing and happy. He couldn’t wish for anything better.

They end up playing until they’re hungry like wolves. Lydia suggests ordering pizza, since they’ve earned it after playing so much. David and Leigh cheer and run inside to get cleaned up. When the boys are out of earshot, Stiles approaches him

“That was fun. I’ve missed this,” he says with a sad smile and reality comes crashing down again on Derek.

 

Life gets a little easier on Derek after that afternoon. He’s more comfortable around the kids, and both boys are eager to help him remember where things are. He’s thankful that he’s raised these kids so well; Derek can’t imagine how he’d deal with all this while having two misbehaving kids by his side.

Five days later, Deaton shows up with a potion that might help Derek get his memory back. It doesn’t do anything, but give Derek a terrible taste in his mouth for hours. Stiles’ suggestions for getting rid of the taste are quickly dismissed, with a promise for a raincheck when Derek’s memory returns. The next day Stiles has a tea for Derek, but that too doesn’t do anything. The only improvement is the lack of horrible aftertaste. The next possible solution is a little more intense. Candles are lit, incantations read out, but it still has no effect.

“I didn’t want it to get to this, but I fear we have no other option,” Deaton says after they’ve cleaned up everything. “Derek, there is one last option, but it is dangerous. You may lose much more than your memories.” Deaton looks solemn as he explains the procedure. He’d need a guide, someone he trusts more than anyone. They’d have to meditate together, and his guide would lead him through his memories to unlock them. It soundes very simple, but the consequences are huge. Derek could lose more of his memories, or, in the worst case, his life.

“I’ll do it,” Derek replies, without a second thought.

“No!” Stiles says sternly. “You cannot just throw your life away for a shot at getting your memories back. You can’t do that to us, to our kids! You know what it’s like to lose your parents; how could you even consider that?”

“Because this is no life!” Derek argues. “I don’t remember what it was like holding my son for the first time! I don’t remember carrying any of my children, I don’t remember their births. I don’t remember why I love you, or Lydia. I don’t remember anything from our relationship. I trust you, Stiles. You can get me through this; I know you can. You’re a powerful druid; you can help me.”

“He has a point, you know,” Lydia chimes in and Stiles looks about ready to murder her.

Stiles opens his mouth to argue, but decides against it. If he’s got both of his spouses against him, there’s no way he’d win. “Fine. But if you die, I’m getting your ass back here to kill you myself. Understood?”

Stiles figures he needs a week to prepare with Deaton and it’s one of the most nerve-wracking weeks Derek remembers having. The kids notice something’s off, but no one dares tell them what’s happening. Derek spends as much with them as he can, because as much as he trusts Stiles, there’s still the fear that he’ll lose everything.

The evening before, after Derek has put the children in their beds, Derek notices how pained the expressions on Stiles and Lydia’s faces are. He realizes now that while he’s been giving a lot of attention to the kids, he’s been basically ignoring his two spouses.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “This must be hard on you.”

“Oh, not at all!” Stiles sneers. “I just might kill my husband tomorrow, but no big deal. I can just get a new one.” Lydia and Derek both reach out at the same time to comfort him, and Stiles eagerly clings to them. They don’t say much after that; they just hold each other close and seek comfort that way. For the first time since Derek lost his memories, they all sleep in the same bed, curled up close to each other.

The following morning Cora comes by to take the kids to her place and keep them busy. Luckily the excitement for spending the day with their aunt distracts the boys enough not to notice their parents’ behavior.

Deaton arrives not much later, and solemnly the four of them walk down to the basement. Stiles helps Deaton light the candles and prepare everything else needed for the meditation. Derek can see the tears in Lydia’s eyes glisten in the candlelight and he reaches out to pull her into a hug.

“Don’t die,” she begs. “Stiles and I don’t work well without you. We can’t… just don’t die.”

Derek presses a soft kiss to her hair. “I trust in Stiles to make this work. You’ll have your Derek back soon.”

When Derek lets go of Lydia and sees Stiles, he opens his mouth to comfort him as well, but Stiles shakes his head.

“I need to keep a clear head for this. So just don’t. I’ll be fine,” he says, though Derek doesn’t have to hear his heartbeat to know it’s a lie. Derek aches to reach out and hold Stiles, but he knows that Stiles is right. This is better.

Deaton guides them into the right positions, and Derek swallows his nerves. It’s Stiles that talks him through relaxing, and Derek loses all sense of time. Slowly his surroundings begin fading. Deaton’s worried look, Lydia’s nervous fidgeting, they all go away as the world slowly turns dark.

When Derek can see again, all he sees is him and Stiles in a white room. Derek can’t see where the floor ends, the walls begin, or if there even is a ceiling. The white is blinding, so Derek keeps his focus on Stiles.

“Where are we?” he asks.

“That… is an excellent question, which deserves an excellent answer. Which I will give you as soon as I figure it out myself,” Stiles answers.

“You don’t know where we are? Seriously?! My life’s depending on you, and you have no clue where we are. Great, Stiles. Fantastic!” He can’t believe this. He’s about ready to hurt Stiles, when he sees the look on his face. Stiles is pretending to look aloof, like it’s no big deal, but Derek can see that it’s hurting him. “So, what now?” Derek asks instead.

“I’m pretty sure this is in your mind, or something. We need to figure out how to get to your memories.”

Derek crosses his arms and glares at Stiles, pissed that Stiles doesn’t know what to do. He knows he shouldn’t blame Stiles for not knowing, he has a hard enough time as it is, but there isn’t anyone else to blame. “This is just like that time you told us you know how to get rid of that wood nymph peacefully, and she ended up nearly clawing my eyes out.”

“How do you know about that?” Stiles asks. “I never told you, did Lydia tell you?”

Derek shakes his head. “No… I… I remember it.” He laughs. “I remember it! You sounded all wise with this incantation. We thought it worked, until she jumped for me and came within an inch of my face before Scott got her.” Derek is so caught up in the memory that he hardly notices the ground beneath them changing from bright red to a thin, dirt road.

“Wow… okay, so that is good. I’m guessing that the more you remember, the more we’ll see around us,” Stiles muses. “Shall we follow the road?”

Derek hasn’t got a better idea, so he walks next to Stiles. They walk for a few minutes, but no new memories surface. “It’s not helping,” Derek complains.

“Give it time. You got the first one out of nowhere,” Stiles counters. “Let’s just keep walking. Maybe you’ll find something familiar.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “I got the first one because I was angry, like with the wood nymph.”

Stiles freezes, his eyes widening as he gets an idea. “Okay, so I brought that one up. Maybe I can do that again.”

Derek turns to face Stiles. “And how do you suppose you’re going to do that? Are you going to do something impulsive again, without thinking about the consequences?”

“Yes,” is all Stiles says before leaning in to kiss Derek.

 

_“No, no, no! How many times do I have to tell you two that?” Derek snaps, pacing his kitchen. Stiles and Lydia are sitting calmly at the table, holding hands._

_“Derek, if you’d just listen,” Stiles begins, only to be cut off by Derek._

_“No! I will not be some kind of sextoy to you two to spice up your relationship! We can all see you two aren’t working, I will not get in the middle of that.” Derek knows he shouldn’t have said that. He can see Lydia’s trying to keep her cool, but the way she’s glaring at him is enough to see that it’s not working. “I mean…”_

_“You’re right,” Lydia says, sounding calmer than either Derek or Stiles suspected she would, judging by the look of surprise on Stiles’ face. “Stiles and I argue a lot, and then we make up with sex. It’s not healthy. Which is why we want you to join us. Not as a sextoy, though you’d do excellent as one, but as our partner. I did my research, I know there are plenty of werewolves who have more than one romantic partner. We asked Cora, and she told us you had three parents for a while. Give us a chance, okay? We can be good for you, just like you can be good for us.”_

_Derek pauses; the way Lydia explains it makes sense, a lot more than when Stiles did. “So… we’d date. As in have dinner and watch a movie?” he asks._

_“Yes! Finally you’re getting it,” Stiles says, exasperated. “Honestly, I don’t see why you didn’t just get it when I told you.”_

_“Because you basically just said he’s hot and should be with us. How is that not just an invitation to sex?” Lydia argues._

_“He is hot, you can’t deny that. And…”_

_“And you’re arguing again,” Derek says._

_Stiles smiles sheepishly at him. “Sorry. Like Lydia said, we need you.”_

_“You don’t know if this’ll work. I’ve never been with a guy, and… what if I can’t… you know?” Derek asks, blushing slightly._

_“Get it up?” Stiles clarifies, which earns him a slap on the back of his head from both Lydia and Derek. “Ouch! Damn, you two are strong. If we do this, I vote we don’t hit me any more.”_

_“But I have so much fun hitting you in the bedroom,” Lydia says, pressing a soft kiss to Stiles’ lips. “Especially when you’ve been a bad boy and need to have your bottom spanked.”_

_Stiles blushes bright red. “Lydia!” he hisses. “Not in front of others!”_

_“Oh, please. Derek’s so hooked. Just look at him.”_

_Lydia’s right, of course. He is hooked; just the mental  image of Lydia disciplining Stiles is enough to make his earlier doubt disappear. “Can I… this may sound… can I kiss you two first? Just to see if… I like it?” Derek feels a little ashamed for asking it, but thankfully he gets nothing but positivity as a response._

_“Of course, sweetie.” Lydia says, getting up to approach him first. Kissing Lydia is so different from kissing any girl he’s kissed before. She’s soft and careful with him, though he also feels like she’s dominant to him. It’s wonderful, perfect, everything he’s ever wanted._

_Kissing Stiles is different. There’s a hint of dominance, but it’s almost lost in the eagerness of the kiss. It’s no less perfect, though, and Derek could keep kissing both of them for the rest of his life._

 

Next thing he knows, Derek’s back to Stiles again. Stiles looks at him expectantly; he’s nearly bursting with the need for an answer.

“Anything? Did it work? Please tell me it worked, because I have no idea what else to do,” he rambles.

“You’ve gotten better at kissing,” Derek answers with a smirk. “You were too eager the first time.”

Stiles doesn’t notice the insult at first and pumps his fist in the air. “Yes! You remem…. wait, what do you mean too eager?” he asks.

Derek smiles and continues walking again. There are a few trees shooting out of the white ground around him, while Stiles keeps nagging him for an explanation of his comment. Small memories keep coming back to him. The first time he had Stiles and Lydia over for dinner, the first time they slept together, deciding to get married, the small ceremony in the woods, deciding to have kids. Derek’s heart skips a beat when he remembers taking a pregnancy test and finding out he was pregnant with David.

Not all memories are happy, though. He remembers Peter turning on them again, and how they had to kill them. There’s the time they nearly lost Lydia to a rival pack. Derek can still feel the fear when the Sheriff was in the hospital.

With every new memory, the scenery around them fills out. After the memory of Laura being born, he recognizes the forest as the one they live in. He feels amazing having his memories back, and he knows it was worth the risk. They come to a small clearing. There’s a wooden chest in the middle, drawing Derek closer.

“I think you need to open that,” Stiles says softly.

Derek nods, approaching it with caution. He hopes the box contains the rest of his memories. He has the most important ones back, or at least he thinks he does, but they’re all unconnected. Puzzle pieces that need to be put in order. He takes a deep breath when he arrives at the chest, and reaches out with a shaky hand. He barely has to touch the wood for the chest to burst open, enveloping him with bright light again. A piercing pain shoots through his head, and he shouts out. The world abruptly changes from blinding white, to pitch black.

He’s on a cold hard floor, unable to move a muscle. The world is still pitch black, but there are a few sounds breaking through barriers.

“...can’t be dead… so well… came back…”

Derek’s trying so hard to zone in on the voice, but he keeps losing it.

“...blame yourself… dead!... give it time…”

Derek’s sure there’s more than one voice, but it’s hard to focus on them. Instead he focuses on moving something. Even if it’s just a finger, something to show that he’s not dead. Next he tries to make a sound. It takes everything he has, but he finally manages to let out a sound. It’s a low moan, but thankfully it’s enough to catch the attention of the voices. He’s sure there’s more than one now. Three probably.

“Derek!” someone shouts. He knows that voice, he tries so hard to put a face to it. “Derek, wake up!” it shouts again. It hits him, than. It’s Lydia, his wife. His wonderful, beautiful wife is shouting at him to wake up.

“Come on, you bastard! Wake up.” That’s Stiles, no doubt.

“Not a bastard,” he mumbles, slowly getting a better grip on the reality around him.

He hears laughter, and suddenly he’s engulfed by strong arms. They hold him as he comes back to the world. There’s a soft hand in his hair, Lydia’s, he thinks.  Loving words are whispered in his ear. He has no idea how long it lasts, but finally he’s able to open his eyes. The first thing he sees is Lydia smiling at him, tears sparkling in the corners of her eyes. Stiles is on his other side, a tear rolling down his cheek.

“You’re back,” Lydia whispers.

Derek nods. “I’m back.”

 


End file.
